


Finding Bucky

by sonjustno



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rehabilitation, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:23:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9136021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonjustno/pseuds/sonjustno
Summary: Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson have been looking for Bucky but end up empty handed each time. However, after another long night looking for a man who likely left the country, Steve finds an unexpected guest at his doorstep.





	1. Where You Least Expect

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to be the only one to take credit for this fic. This was co-written a couple of years ago with an old friend, and I figured I'd share it with you guys. If it weren't on my computer, it would probably be collecting dust elsewhere. The characters are probably out of character, but hopefully, not so much it is difficult to get by.

As soon as Steve Rogers was relieved from the hospital the next day, the first thing he knew he had to do was find Bucky. His friend was out there somewhere, and who knew what was running through his mind. But then there was the issue of, Bucky wouldn’t be found until he wanted to be found, and Steve knew it.

The best thing about Steve finding Bucky was that he wouldn’t be doing it alone. Sam had told Steve at the mock gravesite of Nicky Fury that he would help find this man for Steve. This was something Steve found to be really selfless coming from a man who knew nothing more about the masked man-- someone very important to Steve.

***

“Look, man. We’ve been at this all week. How about you just get some shut eye, think this over, and tomorrow we’ll get at it again?” Sam walked with Steve up to the apartment complex front entrance.

Steve hung his head. He was exhausted. “Yeah, alright. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

With a nod, Sam rested a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Alright.” He smiled. “Tomorrow.” Then, with one last smile, he turned and walked away towards the parking lot. “I don’t want to see you passing me on my morning run, Rogers!” Sam called over his shoulder.

He chuckled and waved a hand towards Sam before looking up at the building. A part of him wanted to keep searching for any sign of Bucky, but the other part knew Sam was right. He needed to sleep, or he wouldn’t have any energy left to think properly. Hell, he has hoped to walk into his apartment to find Bucky waiting.

Steve sighed and was about to push open the front door when there was a shuffling that sounded to be near the trash cans. He froze his senses on alert.

“I’m not going back.” a voice pressed through the darkness.

Steve swung around to see a figure of a man standing in the shadows of the alleyway. “Bucky?” he muttered but kept his hopes low. For all he knew, his friend was still too brainwashed to know him.

The figure felt a draw that he found himself stepping into the dim light from the complex. From what he read at that museum, he knew he had once known this man, but did he know him? How could he believe another life he thought to have never lived?

“I _can’t_ go back,” he repeated himself. A new meaning. He knew all too well that if he returned he would be punished for not completing his mission who stood before him, not returning, and ultimately reset back to a numb. There was no chance of going through all that pain again. Anything to avoid that pain...

Steve swallowed and took a slight step forward. “And you don’t have to.” Bucky was watching him warily, probably scanning for any sign of dishonesty, or a weapon. But there wasn’t one; he never seemed to carry a gun, only a shield, which he didn’t appear to have on him.

Who would have thought Bucky would find Steve before Steve found him. Steve looked back towards the building and back at his friend. He didn’t want to risk hiding Bucky in a building everyone knew was. “You can come with me.” Steve took another step closer, only to take half a step back when he saw Bucky’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Only if you want,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do, Buck.”

For once, as long as the man could remember, he was given an option. He was never given an option, always followed his orders, and never questioned the people who contained him. For him, his questions never arose because it was something expected from him, to be silent. Those people were the only other things he knew, besides the broken memory of the man in front of him. A man who he was to terminate, and now for some pull, was going to help him.

“Buck…” he repeated Steve, a look of confusion pulling at his face

Steve cracked a small smile. “I always used to call you that when we were kids. It kind of stuck, I guess.”

“I don’t know you.” He sounded defensive now, panicked, at the thought, he remembered something. They disallowed him to remember-- it would harbor a mental self-control-- if he remembered, he was wiped.

His smile fell. “I know. But you recognized me, right?”

There was a long pause as Steve watched Bucky’s face change, as though questioning himself, and Steve knew he was thinking back to the helicarrier, which had to have linked back somewhere.

“You recognized me when I was beaten. There’s a reason for that,” Steve tried to explain.

“You were my mission.”

Steve shook his head. “No. That’s not why. Try to think back, Bucky.” He was nearly pleading by now. “Remember that skinny kid who always got into fights in alleys? You’d show up just before the other guy was about to do me in.”

Next thing Steve knew, he was pushed against the wall, Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around his throat. “ _Lies!_ ” His voice gritted through the air. “I _don’t_ know _you_.”

Trying not to let his reflexes kick in, Steve stayed still, his eyes growing sad. “Why would I lie to you?” he asked, searching his friend’s face. “You’re my best friend. I just want to help you. Please, Bucky.”

_‘You’re my best friend.’_ Why did he keep telling him this? He said the same thing when they were both up in the sky, refusing to fight back. It made him feel as though it was a distraction on the other man’s part, which angered him. Bucky’s grip began to tighten as his temper grew. This was a distraction.

“I’m not the one you should be fighting,” Steve choked out, his hand instinctually gripping Bucky’s bionic arm. “HYDRA had taken you by force. You came here tonight on your own free will. Why?”

Bucky looked at Steve with gritted teeth, his eyes looking back and forth at Steve’s own.

“I don’t know,” he pushed himself away from Steve, anger still running through his body. Anger at himself, more so that he was now even more lost to what was going on. It was just that he felt a pull to this man, something deep down he had long forgotten still brewed. If it was any consolation to what he saw in the museum, that held truth to _something._

Rubbing his neck, Steve straightened his posture and stepped forward. “I know you don’t believe it, but I am your friend. And I know that if we stay out here much longer, someone might see something, and I don’t want them getting to you again.”

Bucky looked to Steve in panic. No one could find him, let alone take him back. Yet, that was all he knew...

Steve glanced up at the windows of the building. “If you want, _if you want_ , you can come inside.” There was no response from Bucky, something Steve had to start considering. At least until Bucky would start coming around. Steve opened the door and gestured for Bucky. Although Bucky was timid, eyeing Steve and the door, until he finally moved cautiously. A first step in helping his friend, Steve felt.

They made it safely up to the apartment without any trouble, taking the stairs. Steve could feel Bucky’s eyes on his back the entire way up but didn’t let it bother him. At least he had accepted the invitation, but Steve knew they couldn’t stay in an apartment long. Who knew how many HYDRA agents were still out there, and Bucky had been their biggest asset.

“Uh, this is me,” Steve said, turning the key and opening the door. Bucky stared at him warily, so Steve walked in first. “I have food if you’re hungry. And a bed. I’ll take the couch.”

There was no response. Bucky was stopped just inside the door, looking his surroundings. His eyes falling on the far window, and the rooftop behind. Blood, presumably from the Director, stained the wooden floor, a rug barely covering it. He remembered positioning himself, focusing his scope to that very window, and when he spotted the SHIELD director’s back through the lense, he took the shot as ordered. There were suppose to be two targets, and he was in the room with one of them.

Steve paused, watching his friend assess his surroundings. He glanced over at the switch on the wall. “Mind if I hit the lights?” Bucky only looked from Steve to the light switch. Steve reached for the switch, watching his friend cautiously in case there was a protest.

The light filled the room.

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh, Buck,” he said to himself. His friend was pale, and his hair was matted, unshaven, and had dark circles under his eyes. His clothes weren’t in that great of shape either, and he just appeared worn. For a moment, Steve wished Alexander Pierce was still alive so that he could beat him to a pulp for what he put Bucky through. His fists balled up, and his jaw clenched at the thought.

  
Bucky watched Steve go rigid, and immediately planted himself, ready for a fight. He knew, in the back of his mind, he shouldn’t trust this man-- informed not to. He brought him up here, with no escape, and likely had those people on their way. Bucky looked for an escape if needed, eyeing the door; he saw that it was closed, yet still unlocked. He could easily get to that door and be out before the man could make a move.


	2. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to help Bucky remember.

“You can leave,” Steve murmured, noticing how Bucky kept looking towards the open door. “I’m not trying to keep you here by force. I want…” He paused when Bucky’s eyes flashed to meet his. “I want you to stay because  _ you _ want to stay.”

Steve watched Bucky relax a little, but not enough to be entirely comfortable. “I’ll tell you what. How about I get you some new clothes, and let you wash up. While you’re doing that, I’ll make something to eat, because you look like you need it, pal.” At least with this time, it would let Bucky relax more, and be comfortable being here for the time being. Until then, Steve was also going to think of another place for them to go. Not here, it was too risky. Afterall, HYDRA did send his friend here to take him out.

Steve left the room, leaving Bucky to stand in the middle. He returned with clean clothes, holding them out to his friend, who took them slowly. “I’ll show you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up.”

After showing Bucky how the shower worked, and giving him towels and a razor to use, Steve closed the door. He let out a sigh, the thought that his long lost friend was on the other side of that door. Making his way to the kitchen, he pulled out sandwich supplies - something easy. 

\--

The bathroom door clicked behind him, as Bucky clung the fresh clothes to his body. He sat the pile of clothes on the sink counter, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. What he saw explained the reaction of the man outside. His hair fell around his face in an oily, stringy mess. Dirt grimed his unshaven face and neck, from where he slept those nights. Slept. His eyes showed him how much of a lie that was. He never slept... _ couldn’t  _ sleep.

Bucky shed off his clothes, leaving the crumpled pile on the floor. As soon as he stepped into the shower, he hadn’t realized how hurt and achy his body felt as the hot water washed over him. His muscles relaxed, as he stood under the shower head, opening his eyes to watch the tinted water spin down the drain. 

Never was he allowed such a private moment if he was in the facility with his givers. 

The best feeling was lifting his face towards to water, concentrating on the pressure massaging his skin, and the water runs down his face to his body. It seemed like he stood there for ages, just letting the water purify what he was. Only, the water which sounded at contact with his artificial limb reminded him that he would always be the man he was made to be. 

He was ordered to clean himself up. Bucky looked to the shelf within the white stall, at to bottles and a sponge. One of the bottles read ‘Axe Shampoo’ and the other with similar markings was a conditioner. Bucky absently ran his flesh hand through his hair, feeling all of the knots protest from his fingers. The man had shown him which to use first, and with that Bucky squeezed the first bottle with his left hand. He put the now dented bottle back on the shelf and slopped it’s remnants onto his head, some of it falling to the floor.  He worked the mixture into his hair, releasing the knots, the feeling against his scalp was soothing, which seemed to almost cause his knees to go weak at how relaxed he was. 

After he had finished washing his hair and bathing with the bar of soap, he pulled the only towel from its bar and wrapped it around his waist. He stepped out of the shower, leaving a load of hair in the drain, which prevented water from going down. Bucky felt like a new man emerging, his skin no longer felt tight and dry-- burdened with the blood and sweat of others. But, only if the water would have cleansed his memories of pain and torture, which seemed to block the past he was begged to remember by the soldier outside.

Still holding the towel closed with his left hand, he used his other to wipe away the condensation from the mirror. Although the mirror was still reflected a blur, he was thankful the image he saw wasn’t a depiction of anyone he recognized. He was happy he couldn’t see the man stare back at him, reminding him of everything he had done. Once the steam in the room began to die away, hiding his persona only did he now look back in the mirror to witness what he was. HYDRA’s asset.

_ If I was the man, he said I was… _ Bucky turned the metal razor in his hands, watching light bounce off the metallic, every which way it turned. He looked back up at the clear mirror, watching the man’s brows furrow, eyes in pain and regret.

“James Buchanan Barnes…” Bucky let the words out, seeing how they felt if they would be the answer for him remembering.

Nothing.

Bucky smeared on the shaving cream that rested with his clothes, onto his face. Pulling the skin taut with his left hand, he glided the razor down his cheek. The next thing he knew he was looking back at the man he saw in the mural looking back at him. Albeit, he had longer hair, and no emotion, but he carried similar facial features.

\--

Steve sat the plate on the table, with a glass of milk, glancing to the light coming from under the bathroom door, showing no sign of vacancy yet. He could hear the shower running and the different sounds of the water hitting the shower floor as Bucky took a shower. 

As he waited, Steve walked to the linen closet in the hallway and began removing a sheet and blanket and began making a bed on the couch, taking a pillow from his bed. He turned the tableside lamp on in favor of the overhead lights, leaving the kitchen fluorescent as the only other light. 

Steve absently looked around his apartment, checking that the curtains were fully closed and the front door was locked, as he waited, looking back at the bathroom door. He tidied up magazines on the coffee table numerous times, before making his way back to the kitchen.

It wasn’t until another ten minutes or so did the sound of the bathroom door opening intrigue Steve, who sat waiting opposite the plate of food. He watched his now clean-shaven --recognizable-- friend pause in the living room, only to spot Steve in the kitchen. Bucky slowly made his way into the small kitchen, looking down at the food on the table, and pulling the chair out. 

Everything about Bucky was careful and thought out, and to Steve, his friend’s body movements showed it. Steve was surprised Bucky didn’t begin eating, only looked at the plate of food. He had to be starving, to say the least.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the man across from him before shoving the plate in Steve’s direction. “Take a bite,” he demanded. For all he knew, it was poisoned.

“Buck, it’s just a sandwich,” Steve said, pushing the plate back carefully. “I didn’t do anything to it.”

“Take. A. Bite.” His posture was rigid, and he was mentally kicking himself for even coming up to the apartment. Whatever the Smithsonian had said, they could be wrong. He had to know for himself.

Steve sighed and grabbed the sandwich from the plate, taking a bite. He placed the sandwich back on the plate as he chewed, watching Bucky look back at him. “See?” Steve indicated while chewing. He watched Bucky then push the glass of milk towards him.

“Drink,” Bucky said flatly.

Instead of refusing again, Steve obediently took a generous gulp of water and swallowed. He placed the glass back next to Bucky’s plate and gestured towards the food in front of him. “Sandwiches are the one food I’m decent at making,” he added.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve, before looking down at the sandwich, and picking it up. He looked at the sandwich carefully and finally gave in, taking a hesitant bite. Chewing it slowly, he waited for any indication of foul play. Nothing, but the scream from his stomach wanting him to eat more. Realizing just how hungry he was, Bucky finished the sandwich in two bites and downed the milk in one gulp.

Raising his eyebrows, Steve glanced at the kitchen counter that still had all the mayo and meat sitting out. “Do- do you want another?” Steve was already getting up before Bucky could answer because Steve knew he wouldn’t. 

Within another minute, Steve placed the same plate down before Bucky with a new sandwich; everything doubled this time. Steve returned to his place across the table, and this time, smiled to himself as Bucky eagerly picked up the sandwich.

“See, you were hungry.” Steve grinned. He couldn't imagine what HYDRA fed him all those years. They would have wanted to keep him strong, and that was probably all that mattered to them.

\---

The next morning, Steve woke, blinking his eyes open as he found himself in his living room. Realization hit from the night before. He went to find Bucky sitting in the armchair in the corner next to the only window, the bed completely made, as though it wasn’t even slept in. Relieved, Bucky was still there. 

“Hey,” he said, gently knocking on the door to announce his entrance. “Everything okay?”

Bucky deadpanned to Steve, seemingly lost in thought. “You’re my friend?” He tried desperately to remember this man’s face all night, only getting glimpses of an era he could barely remember.  The only solidified memories were that of the museum; the man he was thought to be and the soldier on a film reel. Though there was another man who resembled the soldier, a much smaller beaten version.

Taking a deep breath, Steve walked into the room and sat down on the bed across from Bucky. “Back in junior high, these punks were picking on a girl for bringing a doll to school. I stepped in, and they started punching me. I tried punching back, but I didn’t have enough strength. Then, next thing I knew, the guy beating me was being pulled backward. His nose was broken, and he was terrified.” Steve grinned down at his hands at the memory. “I looked up and saw this kid with messy dark hair and a bruised hand help me up. He said, ‘Well that was stupid. One small guy against four? You’re one stupid punk, you know that?’ And after that, we stayed by each others’ side,” he finished, glancing up. “That guy was you, Buck.”

Bucky pulled his gaze from Steve and looked to the floor. He tried to remember, but everything was a blur, in snippets. Ever since leaving, memories came back in particles, pieces of someone else’s life shoved into his mind. Nothing wholesome, or worth meaning. 

“Why did you fight?” Bucky looked back up to Steve.

“I don’t like bullies,” Steve said. “I don’t care how big they are.”

The man in the chair was silent, before looking out the window next to him. There was nothing else worth knowing if it wouldn’t mean anything to him right now. As of right now, he was just going to allow this man to feed him meaningless information; it apparently made him feel better talking to him about the past he knew he wasn’t a part of.

Steve sighed. “I know you don’t remember,” he said patiently, “but… Like I said, I want to help you. Is there…” He paused, not knowing if he should be asking. “Is there anything you remember pieces of? I might be able to fill in the blanks.”

Bucky continued to stare out the window, his hands gripping the armrests, the left one giving under the grip, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “No.” 

About to say something, Steve was interrupted by a phone ringing from the living room. He figured he would ignore it, but it kept ringing. Steve silently left Bucky in the room. Picking up his phone the screen read ‘Sam,’ and Steve answered.

“Hey, Sam, I don’t think I--”

“Yo, man, I’m ‘bout to pull up to your building. Be up in five.” The line went dead. Steve pulled the phone from his ear, to look at it. Any other time he would be okay with the impromptu visits from Sam, but right now, that was the opposite of what he wanted. With both hands, still holding his phone, he ran them through his hair, coming to a rest as he thought of a plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Sam will be disappointed Steve found Buck without him? Should Steve be worried about hiding Bucky from him?
> 
> Thanks for reading another chapter!


	3. The Get Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone knows Steve isn't alone in his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little longer chapter this time. Wasn't too sure where to break it up at. Enjoy!

As promised, five minutes later, and with his bedroom door now shut, there was a knock on his door.

“So, I’ve only played Secret Agent Man once,” Sam said when Steve let him in, “but should we be worried about the two black SUVs parked on either side of the building?”

“SUVs?” Steve said, promptly going to the window, pulling the curtain back, to in fact see a set of black vehicles parked in the same spot he remembered from last night. He didn’t think much of it then, because of the overwhelming encounter with Bucky. As of right now, he should have paid attention more.

“Anyone in them?” Steve turned to Sam, letting the curtain fall back into place.

He shook his head. “Nah, man. I could only see the one on the right. It was empty from what I could tell, but I didn’t wanna go pressing my face against someone’s car.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that image. “Then that’s good,” he said, turning back to peek behind the curtain again. “I’ll keep an eye on them. In time we’ll have to move…” Steve mostly said that last part to himself.

“You think they know we’re lookin’ for him?” Sam asked, glancing around the apartment, noticing the bedroom door closed.  _ Since when did Captain America close his door? _

“It’s a possibility. They know his identity and his relation to me.” Steve walked away from the window. “They’d know I’d go looking for him...and I’m sure they know if he didn’t return to him yet…”

“Whats with the campout?” Sam nodded to the couch. “Bed bugs?”

Steve turned his head to the ruffled blanket and sheet on the couch. “Oh, uh, no.” He chuckled nervously. “This was from the other night. Uh, Clint came by, and needed a place to sleep.” Steve aimlessly put both hands on his hips. “Guess, I never got around to clearing it off. With the whole Bucky thing and what not…”

Sam nodded, clapping his hands together. “Yeah, alright. So how are we gonna do this now, Sleeping Beauty?”

Steve brought a hand to the back of his neck with a nervous laugh, which he tried to hide with a stretch. “Not today. I mean, after all, these weeks, there’s no say in how far he has gone.”

“So, hold up, you’re just giving up?” Sam asked, doubt and surprise mixed in his voice. “You find your friend is  _ alive _ after seventy years and you want to stop because he might not be in D.C.? Steve, I don’t know if you were around when they invented them, but there are things called cars.”

“I’m just saying… maybe he doesn’t want to be found.” Steve looked at Sam, then down at himself. “What do you say, I go get dressed, and we go get some coffee, eat some breakfast. Talk about this later?” Steve began backing towards his bedroom door. 

He furrowed his brow, a smile playing on his lips. “ _ You _ haven’t eaten yet?”

Steve shrugged. “Second breakfast.”

Sam snorted. “Okay, Bilbo, you go do that.” Sam shook his head at Steve as he stood in the middle of the room, waiting. The apartment was never dirty; he could always count on Steve having magazines properly placed on the coffee table. Sam crept towards the table, looking back at the closed door which Steve disappeared behind, and when there was no sign of Steve, Sam ran his hand along the magazines, spreading them.  _ Ha! _

His inner victory was drawn away when he heard car doors slamming shut. Sam went to the window, and upon pulling the curtain a bit, saw men leaving the SUVs all done up like they were gonna go Rambo on someone. That someone was probably standing in this apartment. “Ah, shit.” Sam headed towards the bedroom door calling Steve’s name. Sam flung the bedroom open and hoped he wouldn’t be emasculated by Steve in some way, only to stop in his tracks once he spotted someone in the corner.

“Steve, the-” Holding onto the doorknob, Sam registered who he was seeing, and deadpanned to Steve. “You mean to tell  _ me,  _ of all people, that you  _ found _ him without me!?” 

Sensing Bucky tense, and get to his feet, Steve rounded on the other man. “Sam, what were you saying?” he asked loudly.

“You look good for a guy who’s been on the run,” Sam gave Bucky a not-to-bad look, then turned his attention to Steve. “You know those SUVs outside? Yeah, well, we’ve got company.” Sam gestured a thumb over his shoulder. “Probably because of Cinderella over there,” he nodded to Bucky.

Trying not to panic, Steve nodded. “Right, we need to leave. Now. Bucky?” he asked, turning to look at his friend. Steve glanced at the door, silently asking if he was coming.

“How many?” Bucky ordered Sam to tell him. Before this man even came, he was fine. Now that this other man showed up, they were in trouble. That was an unwelcome coincidence, according to Bucky.

“‘Bout six in one car,” Sam responded, talking directly to Bucky. “Man, it’s HYDRA. They had that weird red symbol on their jackets, but now that we’re all standing here, they’re probably almost here,” he said, looking back at Steve.

“Backdoor. We can take the other stairwell down the hall. Slip past them, if they are already going up Stairwell A,” Steve said quickly. “You go ahead, pull the car around back. By the time you get there, Bucky and I will be waiting.”

Sam nodded. “You got it, Cap,” he said before running out of the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

Steve turned around to the closet, grabbing an article of clothing. “Here, put this on.” He handed Bucky an oversized jacket. “The hood should be big enough to cover your face.” Bucky did as he said as Steve grabbed a ball cap from the top shelf, and put it on. 

The two men exited the apartment and began making their way down the hall. By the time they got to the stairwell, Steve could hear a series of steps coming from the other end of the hall. The stairwell door shut just in time. They made a quick retreat down the stairs, and Steve was thankful he had Sam go on ahead because he didn’t want to end up carrying the man down the stairs if he couldn’t keep up. 

Sam pulled up behind the building just at Steve, and his friend came out the back door. Within seconds the two men were in the car, and Sam backed down the alleyway, onto a side street.

Steve looked to him, “You know, you could have just went forward…”

“No can do, Captain. We have to make our escape in style.” Sam smiled widely, and he turned the wheel onto a side street. “Besides, the best way to leave is the way you came from.” Sam laughed.

Steve snorted a laugh before looking over at Bucky. He was staring out the back window with narrowed eyes. “Sam, we need to find a pay phone.”

Sam looked over with an are-you-serious look. “Man, are you crazy? A payphone? Please…” he snorted.

“Fine, a gas station with a phone,” Steve retorted, rolling his eyes. “I need to make a call.”

“I know just the place,” Sam smiled. The way he said it, worried Steve just a little bit. They made a couple of sharp turns before hitting the main street. The car ride was cut short after another five minutes when they pulled up to a self-fill gas station. Sam parked the car, slinging his arm over Steve’s seat.

“Tadah! Just like you, old and rusty,” Sam said, looking out the window past Steve.

“This place looks vacant,” Steve looked over at Sam like he was crazy. “I said a gas station  _ with  _ a phone.”

“It’s not vacant, trust me. I came here three days ago. No one comes here ‘cause it looks horrible, it scares people off, but there’s definitely a phone in there,” Sam assured him, nodding towards the dilapidated building.

Steve looked out the window, to see if there was any sign of life from inside. “Fine.” Steve began opening the car door, only to stop. “Watch him, will you?” Steve told Sam.

Sam watched Steve try to casually walk into the shop and glanced over his shoulder to Bucky. “So… no hard feelings for me kicking you, right?”

Steve entered the store, the bell ringing from the door. Sam was right, this place was open, and a lot nicer inside. He walked over to the counter where a man sat behind the register. “Um, excuse me. You don’t have a phone I can use by chance?”

The elderly cashier raised a bushy eyebrow. “Why? A young feller like you don’t have a fancy cellular phone?” he asked in a patronizing tone and eyeing Steve suspiciously.

“Battery died. What can I say, fancy things break quicker.” Steve smiled.

The man “humf-ed" and shoved a thumb towards the far corner. “Make it quick. It costs a quarter. No debit or visa. An actual coin, kid.”

Steve looked to where the old man pointed and returned his thanks. Making his way down the far aisle, he came to a phone compartment attached to the wall. An old mangled phonebook hung by a gnarly string connected to the base of the unit. Steve pulled the black phone off its ringer, and held it with his shoulder, as he reached into his pocket for a quarter. 

The phone rang for a long time, and Steve hoped and prayed Stark would answer.

“Hello? May I inquire who this is?” a British voice asked.

“JARVIS! Thank God.” Steve sighed in relief. 

“Captain Rogers? I am sorry, the number you are using isn’t registered,” the AI said.

“I need to speak with Stark immediately,” Steve said, looking over his shoulder, to see the old man eyeing him from the counter shaking his head.

“Right away, sir. One moment.”

As Steve waited for Stark to get on the line, a female voice indicated his remaining time.

“Captain! Haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s shakin’?” Stark said, the sound of music playing in the background.

“Stark, I need a favor,” Steve said urgently into the phone.

_ You have one-minute-thirty seconds remaining. _

“You got it, buddy. What can I do for ya?” He paused. “Wait, are you using a  _ pay phone? _ ”

“That doesn’t matter,” Steve said quickly. “I should have seen this coming, but HYDRA is back. We need someplace to take cover.” Steve paused, hearing a groan come from the other line.

_ One minute remaining. _

“Right, I saw the news. Frankly, I should have seen HYDRA was in SHIELD since I did try to break into their secure files. My bad.” Stark sighed. “Yeah, you can stay at the Tower. On one condition; remember that I am actually a nice person,” he said chipperly. “Now, do I need to send a jet?”

“No, we’ll be there in a few hours,” Steve informed. “Thanks. I really app-

_ You have no time remaining. Goodbye. _

On the other end of the line, Stark pulled his phone away to stare at the screen. “Only you’d use a fucking payphone, Rogers.” He rolled his eyes and went back to fixing his newest suit.

Steve hung up the phone and began making his way out of the small store. “Thank you,” he told the man before pushing out the door. 

“Everyone up for driving to New York?” Steve said, with a sigh, as he slid into the passenger’s seat, closing the door behind him.

Sam blinked. “New York, huh? Yeah, okay. Lots of people. A good place to lay low…”

“We’re going to Stark Tower,” Steve interrupted.

Sam did a double take over his shoulder. “S-Stark Tower? Okay, so  _ not _ laying low…” He backed the car up and pulled onto the nearest highway. “About a four-hour drive. Three and a half since I’m at the wheel.” He flashed a grin at both men, ignoring how Bucky was glaring.

“I shouldn’t ask you to do this,” Steve said after a few miles down the road.

“Okay, how many times do you have to say that?” Sam laughed. “Dude, I’m in.”

Steve chuckled. “Not enough, huh?”

Sam sped up to pass some station wagon. “Nah, man, like I said; I do what you do, just slower.” He eyed the speedometer as he passed 85 miles per hour. It was at least twenty over the speed limit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think so far? 
> 
> Thanks for reading still!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)


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